


queens of tatooine

by IceisAwesome



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: BAMF Leia Organa, Female Luke, Female Luke Skywalker, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Gen, Genderswap, Gray Jedi, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, The Force, possible future relationships, slave rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceisAwesome/pseuds/IceisAwesome
Summary: A daughter for Breha and Bail, a daughter for Beru and Owen. That is what Obi-Wan plans on, at least until the Force decides to intervene.





	1. Sisters

A daughter for Breha and Bail, a daughter for Beru and Owen.

This is what he had planned on, what he was sure would come to pass.

But Obi-Wan holds one in his arms (he doesn’t know which, can’t tell the pale eyed and pale haired babes apart) and the Force  _sings._

 _My daughters,_ it hums in the space between breaths.

 _Mine,_ it whispers in his ear.

A vision comes then, a vision of twin suns and an endless desert, a vision that makes it clear what he is meant to do.

He wants to rage, wants to scream back at it, because hasn’t it done enough? Haven’t they suffered enough in their endless attempts to serve its will?

The force is insistent though, tugs and twists at his mind with an urgency he cannot deny, can never deny, and so he resigns himself to the path set before him.

Beru and Owen are given the twins in the dead of night, look at the matching faces of the sleeping girls with something close to wonder, and Obi-Wan swallows the bile rising in his throat. The force is greedy and grasping, the force doesn’t like to share, and it will undoubtedly find ways to punish them for loving its chosen too.

He dreams that night. He dreams of twin girls staring up at the sky, he dreams of a child struggling as something is pressed down under her skin and into her spine. He dreams of anger and despair, of loss and grief-and he dreams of hope. Hope that comes with the smile of a bright eyed girl and the woman with the keen eyes of a scowling queen, hope that comes when the black suited monstrosity that haunts his dreams kneels in a pile of blood.

Obi-Wan wakes the next morning with tears frozen on his cheeks and a sob on his lips. 

He doesn’t remember the dreams.

* * *

The twins are no longer so easy to mistake for one another as they grow. Luke’s hair stays the same sandy blonde, eyes the same striking blue, while Leia’s hair darkens to a deep brown and her eyes darken with it.

But they doesn’t keep them from remaining close, closer than any other siblings are. It doesn’t keep the other children from thinking of them as one unit, as one  _person_ , as they watch the two interact.

(The other children don’t know the two speak without speaking, the other children don’t know the girls can hear each other’s thoughts, feel each other’s emotions, know each other as only the bonded can.)

* * *

Beru startles one morning when both girls freeze at the table, not even sparing her a glance before rushing outside.

She’s left hurrying after them, staring as Luke kneels in the sand, as Leia wraps her arms around her shaking sister.

Luke doesn’t know why she’s sobbing, why she wants to vomit, but the sense of  _wrong-wrong-wrong_  echoes in her mind, shrieks in the winds that whip around them.

The force howls its grief and Luke howls with it, tear stains marring Leia’s face as she clutches her sister, both blind to the world outside them.

They weep as Obi-Wan Kenobi takes his last shuddering breath.

* * *

Luke and Leia are eleven when the only parents they’ve ever known are killed in a tusken raid, fifteen when they are captured by Hutt slavers after years of scavenging on the streets.

Leia kicks and screams as they haul her to the Hutt’s palace, not stopping until one backhands her, a bruise blossoming on her cheek. She stays silent then, silent until Luke screams in pain, sobbing when her skin is cut open for the slave chip.

The slavers laugh at the dark look at her eyes, jeer at her promises of vengeance, and they sign their own death warrant.

After all, she is her father’s daughter.

* * *

The girls are spared the fates the befall many of the young and pretty in the Hutt’s service. Leia is beautiful but the overseer finds her skill with sums more useful than anything she could provide between the sheets. Luke may be sweet but the mechanics refuse to let someone with such potential become a bed slave.

The twins are lucky in comparison, but that doesn’t stop the growing anger in Leia’s veins as she watches the other girls suffer, that doesn’t stop the determination that sparks in Luke’s eyes when she watches another slave sent to their death for daring to disobey.

 _We have a gift_ , Leia whispers in her twin’s mind one night as they share a pallet, as she buries her nose in the nape of her sister’s neck. 

_We have a gift, we cannot afford to waste it._

Luke agrees.

* * *

The wind stirs them awake with a wail the next night, Leia reaching out a hand to steady her sister as Luke jolts in her sleep.

 _Come,_  the voice in the wind urges them,  _come and see._

Luke deactivates her sister’s slave chip with a twist of her mind and Leia does the same before they sneak out the door and disappear into the dunes, walking hand in hand. 

They leave with no clothes beyond those they wear, they leave with no water and no supplies, but Luke knows they will survive. 

The desert promises they will, and the desert never lies.

* * *

_Lightsabers._ The word comes to Luke’s mind unbidden as they open the box hidden in the abandoned hut, as they unwrap the cloth hiding the hilts.

 _Jedi._ Leia responds silently, thinks of the stories that claimed the Jedi could do things no one else could, the stories of warriors that could influence minds and sense living things. 

She conjures up the hushed stories, the whispered stories, that say the Jedi were freedom fighters and protectors, were warriors that defended the innocent and delivered justice to those who did wrong 

Leia’s mouth tugs into a rare smile and Luke beams back at her sister as they think the same thought.

The Force sings in approval as they plot, as they whisper of ways to break the Hutts and help the slaves, ways to eventually take on the Empire that encourages such injustice.

The Jedi have been born again.


	2. Change

Leia wants to march into the slave auctions and the Hutt’s palace, wants to blaze a path through the slavers, wants to cut them down until no one can ever be hurt again.

But rushing in won’t do anything in the long term, even with their gift they’re not invulnerable, and she knows that means they must plan.

“We need more than weapons,” Luke mutters to her as they listen to the wind howling outside the hut. “We need medics and food and spies.”

“I know,” Leia whispers back, “I know.”

“We’ll find them,” her sister says with bone deep conviction. “We’ll find them, we’ll free them, and we’ll make sure no one will ever be enslaved again.”

She reaches out a hand, curls her fingers in her sister’s and looks into her blue eyes.

“Tatooine will be free.”

* * *

The overseers say the Skywalkers were killed for disobedience, were put down for daring to try to escape.

The slaves know better. They whisper of the empty cot and the overseers’ surprise, they whisper of how the slavers had raged over the loss of such valuable merchandise.

The slaves know the girls disappeared into the desert, the slaves know the girls managed to disable their chips and walk away in the night.

The masters hiss that they’ll die in the wastes, that they’ll be killed by tusken or die of starvation, but the slaves know better.

They think of lucky Luke and clever Leia, of how they came from the desert and returned to it.

No, the slaves don’t think they died.  _They are out there,_  the kitchen slaves whisper.  _They escaped,_  they dancers say in hushed voices.

_They are free._

* * *

The slaves in the clinics that splint broken bones and stitch up their masters’ wounds disappear first.

The owners are scared, the owners are terrified, when they find the bleeding bodies of the guards, when they look down and see the controllers crushed beneath some invisible force.

Miles away, under the desert suns and in the overwhelming heat, former slaves laugh in relief, cry until they cannot anymore.

Freed slaves look at these girls that shine like the suns and swear their loyalty.

* * *

For all of Leia’s eagerness, Luke is the one to lead the first raid on an auction.

Leia has become the unofficial leader of their small group, has become the one who rations the supplies and rallies the medics, the one who comforts the slaves that weep in relief, the one that assigns tasks and trains the slaves who come with blasters and knives. 

Leia knows she is meant to lead, just as she knows her sister is meant to fight.

Luke is the one that makes the auction announcer’s guards drop like puppets with their strings cut with nothing more than a wave of her hand. Luke is the one that wields a blue blade effortlessly, that cuts through the slavers and steps over their bodies to break apart the chains shackling those being sold.

She is the one that makes the announcer kneel, that makes them watch the silent crowd, the one that asks the slaves assembled what their sentence will be.

Luke is the one that brings the saber down.

* * *

Their spies, hidden in households and shops, dancing in the palace and running drugs for the gangs, spread the word of their leaders.

The girls that can hear the voice in the wind, the girls that walked in the desert and came back changed.

The girls that can disable slave chips with nothing more than a touch, can reach into a man’s mind and make him do their bidding, that wield swords made of fire and light, that blaze as bright as the sun.

They whisper their names in hushed reverence, spread the word of their deeds, and soon the twins are known gather titles of their own

_The Daughters of the Desert._

_Those Who Walk the Sands._

_The Liberators._

_The Chosen._

_Skywalker._

* * *

The Hutt’s palace is their target. The palace leads to the spaceport and to the ships their slicers can unlock. The palace has a communications array capable of reaching the entire planet and the Hutt keeps records of every major power in the sector.

If they want Tatooine to remain free they have to take the place.

Slicers gather to work on deciphering the code guarding the palace, fighters practice with their blasters until their fingers bleed, and their spies tuck knives under their clothes before going to work.

Each and everyone of them thinks of the girls that freed them, thinks of Luke cutting down slavers with her blade and Leia rallying them with her calls for action.

Their army-for that is what it is, as crude and hastily trained as they are-looks to Leia for guidance, to Luke for hope.

They cannot afford to fail.

They will not fail.

* * *

She walks the halls of the palace, watching and waiting. 

Leia sees the guards bound against the wall, the medics healing the still shocked former captives, the dancers cleaning blood from their blades while standing over the corpses of those that hurt them.

She watches as men bow before her, as women whisper reverently, as children stare with wide eyes from behind their mothers’ skirts.

Finally she reaches the throne room after her walk around the palace, noticing with vicious satisfaction that the Hutt’s body has been dumped in the rancor pit has ordered.

It had felt good to crush the air from his lungs, to let her gift sing as she delivered justice.

“Sister.” Luke looks up from the comm array set in the side of chamber, smiles her bright smile as she ushers her forward.

“Are you sure?” She asks again, frowning when her sister only smiles.

“You know we wouldn’t have anyone else. Now come on, the comm’s ready.”

Leia is suddenly aware of the blood on her tunic, of the patches on her trousers, of the stains on her boots and the dirt on her face.

She allows herself a deep breath before stepping forward, straightening her spine and looking up into the camera with determined eyes. Every city and village in Tatooine will see this, every smuggler and spice runner in space will too. She has to make it count.

“People of Tatooine,” she starts, voice loud and clear and confident, “we are free!”

* * *

The holo spreads, as expected. The farmers of Tatooine see it first, smugglers and spice runners next, and soon enough the holo makes its way across the galaxy, finds itself on the desk of a senator.

Bail Organa watches this girl, so young and already so old, as she speaks, watches as she cries out against injustice, as she vows they will never be chained again.

She truly is Padme’s daughter, this queen of Tatooine.


End file.
